Hardik Vaidya Poems

I am black.
I did not choose to be crack.
Some ducklings are ugly.
Why are they so bugging and sucky?
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When I left you alone
On that afternoon bus
What did you carry?
My eternal lust?
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Somewhere in Australia,
Is a princess born, she writes from the dawn of human morn.
If I were blessed with a daughter, she would be her age
Living in a rage, flowing in freedom, as a woman finding her gaze.
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One more hanging.
I am ashamed as a human being.
But I am scared of treason to appreciate the reason.
Wanting to kill all in Indian Parliament,
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She stood resplendent in passionate red.
A mole on her lips, a stallion kissing, eating bread.
Wild was the stud, lost in her glory, wanting a moment of blasphemous orgy.
I could not help, the ape in me gaped, and spoke the tounge of corky.
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I lost the key to my suitcases lock.
Perhaps I lost the lock, had the right key.
Out went I to find a lock smith,
Who would free my clothes, to clad my nudity.
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I live in a colony.
It's a hive of bees, full of honey
But the nectar, where does she sleep?
While descending my stairwell,
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I saw a watchman, snaking along.
I was at my window, he crossed the road alone.
He came out of the wine shop, just below my house,
Meandering and sozzled of the local scorn,
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Why did you call her a black bitch?
Mom I loved her more than the 9 year itch.
I know you did not mean it,
But when your lips said it,
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Mom is worried, she came to me.
Why do you write poems which are so much me?
She didn't use the phrase, I got her deep ink,
Mommy don't you complain you raised me to be me.
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